


The Fine Art of Negotiation

by airspaniel



Series: Primatech Training [2]
Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-03
Updated: 2007-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airspaniel/pseuds/airspaniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a hostile negotiation situation, it is always crucial to clearly state your wants, and always consider the other person's needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fine Art of Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

> Another in the Primatech Training series ([Practical Japanese For the Businessman](http://yumemiru-kikai.livejournal.com/8279.html#cutid1) and [Lesson Two: Vocabulary and Review](http://yumemiru-kikai.livejournal.com/8960.html#cutid1)), though it's not really necessary to have read those first. Let this satisfy my requirements for both the [](http://paper-pwns-all.livejournal.com/profile)[**paper_pwns_all**](http://paper-pwns-all.livejournal.com/) Rookie Abuse Challenge, and the [](http://rare-heroes.livejournal.com/profile)[**rare_heroes**](http://rare-heroes.livejournal.com/) Threesome! Challenge.

The room is empty when he arrives, but he knows better than to sit down. Just because he’s still got his shirt on doesn’t mean his master can’t still crack the whip.

He stands in front of the window instead, vertical blinds cracked open to reveal an austere concrete courtyard.

It’s grey, like everything else around here. It’s really starting to grow on him.

There is a harsh laugh behind him. “Enjoying the view, rookie?”

Noah freezes. That’s not Nakamura.

Oh, shit.

He doesn’t turn around, and keeps his voice as composed as possible.

“Thompson,” he monotones. “How unexpected.”

The sibilant hiss of braided leather sliding across the floor, and a different deep voice responds.

“Bennet-san, there’s no need to be rude.” Nakamura chides. “He’s here at my insistence.”

Noah closes his eyes tightly. He’s not entirely convinced he’ll make it out of this room alive.

“Face me,” his master commands. He does, doing his best to keep his expression carefully neutral.

“Very good.” The corners of his mouth quirk involuntarily upward at the praise. If Nakamura is pleased, his expression doesn’t show it.

“You are not here for your customary language lesson, Bennet-san. Instead I felt it would be most… beneficial for you to have some training in hostile negotiations.” He chuckles, a deep and foreboding sound, and Bennet feels his blood run cold.

Thompson sits at the conference table, stretching his legs out in front of him, ankles crossed as his heels rest against the polished mahogany. “Can’t sit behind a desk forever, rookie,” he smirks. “Sooner or later, you’ve got to really get your hands dirty.”

Later’s fine, Noah thinks.

Nakamura glares at Thompson, clearly displeased. “Yes, well. Bennet-san, for this exercise, Mr. Thompson will be taking the place of a special who is… let’s say reluctant to come with you. Your objective is, of course, to collect him and process his abilities according to protocol.”

“Bag and tag, kid.” Thompson laughs again, and Noah really wishes he knew just what was so goddamn funny.

But he nods, obedient to the last. “Yes, Nakamura-san.”

Kaito smiles, “Good. Then let us begin.” He steps toward the corner, fading into the shadows.

Bennet feels a little adrift, and more than a little silly. He’s supposed to… roleplay with his boss. And he has no idea how his master wants him to begin.

Almost thankfully, Thompson starts. “You can go fuck yourself, boy, because I’m staying right here.”

He thinks back to his initial training. _Don’t be argumentative. Always consider the other person’s needs._

This train of thought is making him profoundly uncomfortable.

He puts on a brave face, placing a confident hand on the table by Thompson’s feet. “Well, I’m sure we can work something out,” he begins, laying on the charm. “After all, I have a lot that I can offer you.”

The older man quirks an eyebrow at him, eyes raking lasciviously down his body. “Oh, really? Got something worth my time under those sansabelts of yours?”

Noah’s face turns instantly red. “No! I mean, um, my _company_ can give you…”

He’s cut off by full lips twisted in an evil grin. “Not interested, kiddo. I’m doing just fine without your precious Company. You’ve gotta come up with something else…”

He casts desperate eyes toward his master, lurking in the corner. The man’s face is impassive, waiting to see what he’ll do without any instruction.

 _Make your needs known. The ideal result is a win/win situation._

He takes a deep breath. “I need to document your ability, and assess that you aren’t a danger to yourself and others.”

Thompson turns around, feet falling to the floor; and he stands up, looming over the rookie. “I’m no danger to myself, I can tell you that much. You, however,” he presses Noah back against the wall, pinning him in place with a strong arm planted next to his head. “You’re in for a world of hurt.”

Bennet can feel the man’s hips, his rapidly stiffening flesh against his thigh, and he’s not sure what the correct answer is, but he knows his life hangs in his ability to improvise.

“If you help me,” he starts, proud of how solid his voice sounds, “then I’m sure we could come to an amicable arrangement.”

Thompson’s voice is hot in his ear. “You’re giving too much, rookie,” he whispers conspiratorially. “I might just have to take it.” He leans in, ferociously devouring Bennet’s lips in a crushing kiss. This is not what Bennet had wanted, at all, but if it’ll get him what he’s been asked to deliver…

He moans, arching up against the older man, matching his aggressive licks and bites with his own. “If you help me,” he gasps, “I can help you.”

The deep rumbling laugh against his chest makes him relax momentarily; content for the moment to kiss and be kissed.

Suddenly, he finds himself slammed against the wall, one arm twisted painfully behind his back, keeping him immobile.

“And what if I decide to kill you right here?” Thompson rasps. “What if I just open up your pretty throat and drain the fucking life out of you? What then?”

Bennet chokes, helpless against the hold, trying desperately to think of some way to respond. He looks furtively toward his teacher, still in shadow, the light from the blinds casting bars of illumination across his steely features.

Kaito is definitely enjoying this.

Noah decides that the time for logic and conservative action has passed. Passed a long time ago, in fact. Perhaps the very first time he put his hands up against that damn wall weeks ago.

Fuck it. It’s time for something bold.

“Then I suppose,” he gasps, pushing his hips back hard against his captor’s. “You’ll just have to go fuck yourself.”

There is a sharp bark of laughter from the corner, and he only has a moment to savor the triumph before Thompson slams his face into the wall. Stars explode behind his eyes, and his cheek may be bleeding, but all he can process is the growling voice biting at his ear.

“You think that’s funny, kid? You should learn some respect.”

He doesn’t know if they’re still roleplaying or not. Doesn’t think it matters, really, as Thompson fists a hand in his hair, pulling his head back at an awkward painful angle. Teeth sink into his neck, biting too hard, and he cries out, annoyed at his lack of control.

Thompson just laughs, that deep abrasive sound that Noah hates more every time he hears it. “Should’ve known you like it rough, rookie.”

“What do you want from me?” Bennet asks, trying vainly to gain a little more control over the situation.

The rough hands at his waist, ripping his belt free of the loops and all but tearing his zipper down, make it pretty clear what the man wants. His pants are down around his thighs in seconds, a hot, hard cock pressing into the crack of his ass, and he can’t think of a way out of this that isn’t going to hurt.

“Now now, Thompson,” Nakamura intervenes, sliding stealthily out of his corner to press the whip handle against the man’s neck. “You know I don’t like it when people… damage my property. Stay there.”

Bennet wants to sigh in relief, but he’s still pinned tightly by the hard body behind him. So he holds his breath.

“The most important thing about negotiation, Bennet-san,” his teacher begins, snaking a hand between his chest and the wall and slowly, _teasingly_ undoing the buttons on his shirt, starting at the suddenly too tight collar and working his way downward. “Is always knowing exactly what _you_ wish to accomplish, and keeping that goal in mind.”

Those long elegant fingers trail down his now bare skin, and he shivers; the movement drawing him impossibly closer to the man behind him. Thompson rolls his hips against Bennet’s ass, clearly unwilling to risk further movement without Nakamura’s permission.

Kaito’s hand splays possessively over his stomach, and he wonders just what the hell his master is capable of, to make _Thompson_ silently roll over and obey.

Then that hand is moving on his dick, and it’s getting difficult to think about anything at all.

Thompson is breathing hard against Bennet’s neck, struggling to keep his body in check. “Nakamura…” he pants. “ _Please._ ”

“I think you have made your desires abundantly clear.” The Japanese man states, running his other hand up Thompson’s back to tangle in his dark, silver-streaked hair. “Now it is in my student’s hands. What do you want, Bennet-san?”

It’s not in his hands, Noah thinks, it’s in Nakamura’s. Literally and figuratively. And he doesn’t know what it means; what he’s getting into, but at least he knows how to answer this question.

“This. Just like this.”

He feels full lips smirk against the back of his neck, and Nakamura smiles at him. “Then spit, please.”

Fingers press against his lips and he opens on instinct, sucking them desperately. Then they’re gone, moving lower; slipping between his burning skin and Thompson’s erection, pushing inside and opening him expertly. He moans loudly, grinding back against Nakamura’s hand, and can’t control a whine of disappointment when they withdraw.

“You as well,” Kaito demands, holding the palm of his other hand up to Thompson’s mouth. The man needs no further instructions, swiping his tongue thickly and wetly against soft golden skin.

Nakamura’s eyes slide closed for just a moment. “Very good,” he sighs before wrapping spit-slicked fingers around Thompson’s straining flesh.

He groans, head falling forward against Bennet’s shoulder as Nakamura works him in a demanding, businesslike rhythm. Noah cants his head to the side, exposing his neck, and as much as he wants to beg he knows his master wouldn’t approve.

But, _god_ he wants it so badly.

Hands hit the wall on either side of his head, Thompson bracing himself as Nakamura aligns their bodies. He lifts his hips back, seeking a better angle.

His master steps back, resting proprietary hands on both of their waists. “Proceed.”

Thompson slams himself home in one brutal thrust, dropping a hand to claw at Noah’s hip, pulling him close and holding him there hard enough to leave bruises.

Bennet cries out, eyes watering at the pain. It hurts more than he even expected. In fact, he’s sure he’s probably bleeding, but there’s no time to adjust before he’s being fucked mercilessly, the older man’s breath ragged against his ear. His own breath is driven out of him, and all he can do is pant wildly.

“Oh god, yeah,” Thompson snarls. “You’re mine now, boy.”

“No,” Bennet gasps, shaking his head weakly against his braced forearms. “Nakamura-san…”

The Japanese man’s laugh is loud and musical. “So wonderfully loyal!” Soft hands caress Noah’s stomach again, tenderness a dizzying counterpoint to the violent dick in his ass.

“Such a trait should be… rewarded.”

After so many lessons, Kaito knows exactly how to touch him now, when to stroke him fast and hard; when to pull his thumb over the slick head of his cock, when to twist his wrist just _so_ … and it’s too much, it’s all too much.

Noah screams, mindless and overwhelmed, as he comes hard, coating Kaito’s hand and the wall with thick semen. He’s momentarily concerned that he might pass out.

“Fuck!” Thompson contributes, shuddering with the force of his own orgasm. A moment passes before he slips out, pressing a kiss to the back of Bennet’s neck and slapping his ass in a decidedly insulting way.

“Not bad, rookie,” he laughs, fastening his pants. “I knew we hired you for a reason.”

Nakamura clucks disdainfully, and Thompson falls silent. Bennet can’t see his face, but he imagines the man looks suitably intimidated.

“You may go now, Thompson,” he dismisses. “Your assistance has been greatly appreciated.”

“Yes sir,” the man practically salutes, heels clicking softly against the floor as he leaves. “Be seeing you, kid.”

Bennet winces at the farewell. He’s pretty sure he won’t survive the next time.

Oh god. He _knows_ there’s going to be a next time.

His teacher leans against the wall next to him, lazily wiping his hands on the ubiquitous handkerchief. Noah hopes that thing gets washed often.

“As for you, Bennet-san. You may wish to work a little on your control.” A gentle hand tilts his chin up, forcing him to meet Nakamura’s eyes.

“It’s always good to have a plan, even if the circumstances are… not what you had anticipated.”

He almost laughs then, but manages to restrain himself, settling for a small nod. “Hai, Nakamura-san.”

Nakamura chuckles, a rich, warm sound. “Such a good student.” He pats Bennet’s cheek, and for a mad moment Bennet thinks he’s about to be kissed.

He’s not, of course. This is Nakamura, after all. And he’s only the slightest bit disappointed when the man walks away, leaving him cold and more than half naked.

Again.

“Same time next week.” Nakamura states. “Otsukaresama deshita.”

He falls to the floor of the now empty room, curling into a ball against the wall.

God help him, he’s looking forward to it.  



End file.
